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Posts Tagged ‘beyond’

You see, light can be a scary thing.

 

It reveals something you won’t confront

by the mirror. You won’t by your shadows.

This ceiling, will you know how far

I have travelled without moving?

Beyond which my eyes can see.

The mind wanders alone. Come

closer by my bedside.

I’ll whisper something, a story.

Like a baby crying at mother’s

giving birth. Hear the sound

of the first rain after a drought

and how it falls on the parched

earth. A seed hibernates too long

through the darkness, alive.

Set free with its fragile arms

embracing the sky.

 

Will you tell me the truth?

Have you seen the surging ocean

drowning you out of the blue.

Have you felt something taking

root beneath you, peace.

Lullabye of the mermaid

lulling you to sleep

and believe in love

like the shooting stars.

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I will have to catch the train

and leave you. For I am

a wanderer in search

of a destiny. Only here

squeezing in time,

making  a sidetrip

for memory’s sake.

Holiday is sweet

in these short hours.

 

Recollecting the good

old-natured yesterday

becoming vague now.

And in your eyes

there are outlines

of the life you wish

you had with me.

How could it be

so beautiful? Still

I cannot stay, if only

I exist in a fairytale.

 

There is a real world

outside your nutshell.

Breaking away beyond

here- that I must go.

I need to exist

day after day

among other strangers

flocking the city streets.

How can you keep

a dream from going on?

I am not so sure, while

 

I catch train after train

hoping not to return.

Ignoring the illusions

fulfilling your fantasy.

I found you, still,

a girl and a child.

With the same old

story to tell. And you

do not see that I have

become so different.

So far away, a distance

far too wide to belong.

 

Love is not possible

between you and me.

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Beyond the years and graying hairs

I am keeping in a book of dreams.

 

Like dried leaves and dried petals

flooding my way  to the mailbox,

togetherness is just one simple note

of words handwritten in a page.

 

And in my dreams I am trading places

of happy photographs and postcards.

Those promises that fill my head

I am dreaming still. Wondering

 

what’s like to be on the other side

traversing like pigeons. Drifting on

edifices, and parks, and monuments,

wide-eyed in surprise, collecting moments.

 

This morning, I waited for the postman

dropping another note to my mailbox.

And I’ll begin to step back in time

miles and miles away from yesterday.

 

Wishing and hoping memories can be

such like these,  just keeping souvenirs. 

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Perhaps, Teofi

the promises of your future withers too soon

like the leaf falling early in the summer

where we frolicked in the fountain of our energies;

and bask in the heat of our freedom;

and in the nest of fermenting dreams with another human.

I can tell Teofi, how sad is the early goodbye

where you breathed your last and let go

without questioning  who deserves to live more

and without crying over your half-empty cup.

So long that I suddenly stop, I remember

your acid- washed litanies and the morbidity

of your soul longing to be understood.

I fail to grasp the hidden images of your words

to the point of harboring steely tears

over the innocence of your chameleon smiles.

Perhaps Leden,

I cannot fathom the depths of your pain

as if the morrow of your life leaking silently

until the thousand roses leave those lips.

I may not hear you scream to the bowels of the night

fighting the demons of what cruel love has.

Let me feel, the inability of you pointing fingers

to a person who has destroyed your world as if

I can paint the sky with hatred and revenge.

Let me hear  you sing in the divine discontent

of your heart seeking to embrace

the fullness of the glorious unfolding

beyond the corners of your abode.

Perhaps Grandpa,

I can cry me a river searching for the clown

of my many Christmasses and Easter Sundays.

Of letting the clouds softly traversing

like the music of the yesteryears

you keep playing on the radio.

I can say that you choose to live the most

but you never have told me that I

will be missing so much a part of the child

that was taken from me since you’ve gone.

Perhaps,

I would have not lived at all since then,

of querrying, of imagining how death

must have snatched me from my mother’s hand.

All along,  I might be carrying this imaginary coffin,

grieving among the countless earthworms swarming

and crowding the earth

in the numbness of our existence.

Forgetful and aimless like a dead man walking.

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